


To Know Oneself

by ishtarelisheba



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Biting, Breathplay, F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishtarelisheba/pseuds/ishtarelisheba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Rumpel gone off on the mission to rescue Henry, Belle finds a few thoughts that she and Lacey share. Upon his return, she's anxious to share her discoveries with him, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Know Oneself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarru/gifts).



> Written for Mwuhuha (goes by yarru on Ao3) as a part of the Rumbelle Secret Santa event. The prompt was "Belle likes Lacey's kinks."
> 
> The plotty bits have now been firmly jossed. In light of the mid-season finale, I guess this fic is a bit AU.

Their first time was in the backroom of his shop, on the day he left on the pirate’s ship. They’d thought they were going to  _die_. It wasn’t ideal for either of them, the little cot in the back office - less romantic than she’d envisioned and hell on his bad leg, she knew, though he didn’t utter a word of it - and more than a little awkward. But time was short, she was finally _home_ , and he was in despair over Baelfire’s death. And after the last few weeks, she wanted comfort as much as he needed it. They made love quickly, unceremoniously, and while she never could have regretted it, she did wish they’d had more time.

In the days he was gone, she thought of it often. Sometimes, she brought the memory up purposefully to push her worry to the undercurrent of her mind. Other times, it snuck up on her, and she would turn so pink that Granny had once asked if she had a fever. At night, on the cot in the backroom, she had plenty of time to think, to imagine how things might go if - when, _when_ \- Rumpel came home. It was during these musings that she discovered the first of many things Lacey had left behind in legacy.

They bothered her at first, these thoughts. She knew good and well who had “programmed” Lacey, and the idea that Regina had gone so far as to give her cursed self such desires… Well, that was some mixture of indignation and humiliation. The latter was multiplied when Belle found that some of Lacey’s preferences made her feel things, too.

As distasteful as she found much of Lacey’s behavior - all of which had Reasons behind it, she discovered when she delved into those memories and came out brokenhearted - Belle also found that she couldn’t hate her. For better or for worse, Lacey and Lacey’s memories were in her now, and she refused to give Regina any further power over any part of her. Even and _especially_ that part. She resolved to  _own_ those predilections. After all, if the thoughts of them affected her so, then they were a part of her, too. And she wasn’t about to be humiliated by that.

Belle scoured her library for information. She was dismayed, though not terribly surprised, that there was nothing on the subject to find there. She ended up having to borrow Emma’s laptop and, after happening across some things that would be forevermore seared into her mind’s eye, she found a website dedicated to simple information about kinks and fetishes and she settled in with a cup of tea to read.

‘Gerontophilia’ turned out to be a fetish for partners whose age fell into a different generation. She’d had only the one, so she didn’t think it quite applied, but she giggled, “Different generation, indeed.” Moving down the list, she found ‘haptephilia.’ That one made her heart hurt, and she read on quickly. She saw ‘ophidicism,’ which gave her a little jolt of anger as it made her think of the moniker that a certain pirate placed on her beloved’s head.

Others she recognized. Well, the definitions she recognized. Now she had names to put to the things that she and Lacey found erotic - that word she found in Lacey’s vocabulary and liked enough to incorporate into her own.

**~~~**

When he came back, he sat with Belle curled under his arm on the sofa and told her what happened in Neverland: about his father, what happened with the box he’d sent the little red-haired mermaid along to fetch, about Baelfire taking the first tentative steps onto the road to forgiveness… But she could tell that she was getting an abridged version. She didn’t press. She held onto him, just touching him - something he needed after the mission and its misery, even if things had turned out okay. And when he finished telling her, she led him to the bedroom, smiling at his bewildered expression. His lovemaking was artless and needy, and he held onto her as if he feared she might disappear in one of his puffs of smoke, touching her face when they finished and lay side by side as if he were afraid she might not be real.

She’d planned to have a talk the next evening, but the situation with Pan and Henry crashed in on everyone. Among the group of them, the problem with Pan was resolved - painfully, not without grief, but resolved all the same. Between further disasters and interruptions and evenings where the talk just wasn’t going to happen, weeks passed before she brought it up to him, what she’d discovered about herself. She mentioned Lacey once and only once, because he went quiet when she did. As it turned out, Rumpel wasn’t very verbose when it came to talking about sex. He was fine - nay, enthusiastic - when it came to the act. But their words during were typically sparse, restricted to names and oaths and whimpers. The one time she tried an experiment without telling him, he near panicked. She’d held her breath when she felt those very first signs of approaching climax, and when he noticed, he froze, his reaction just short of shaking her to make sure she was still alive. They’d finished, but he only warily.

The moment she broached the subject of supplemental activities in the bedroom, however, he found a reason to leave the room. An errand unfinished, a rent uncollected, a door left unlocked. Her books failed her for once in the face of his flight. Enough was enough and Belle was fed up; she found herself _needing_. Rumpel was simply going to have to steel himself for the conversation. She just had to figure out how to corner him.

They usually had wine at dinner, a couple of glasses apiece. On one particular evening, she kept refilling his glass. He gave her curious looks with each pour until finally she told him honestly, “I want to have a talk later, and I need you… pliant,” leaning back into her chair again after adding a bit more to his glass. He didn’t look convinced, but he drank what she gave him. It was a good sign, she thought, that he trusted her so.

It was something she’d never seen before, Rumpel drunk. She’d seen him tipsy on a little too much Scotch once, through Lacey’s eyes, after his son had caught him with a shoe on Victor’s face. But he wasn’t one to get downright _drunk_. As tight a hold as he kept on his faculties, she knew it was probably a fear of losing control - and didn’t that make sense, too? He was a _quiet_ drunk, which wasn’t what she expected. She’d wondered if perhaps wine would loosen his tongue, but now she worried that he might be even more reluctant to talk to her about the subjects she was itching to broach. 

Belle got him up to the bedroom after dinner and sat him on the side of the bed where he had curled up with her on the nights right after Jefferson let her out, where Rumpel had quietly protected her against memories of cells and chains, rough orderlies and close walls, until she found her own two feet again that one morning and moved out. She chose to concentrate on the good memories of his arms and warmth and ignore the memories that he’d been a barrier against.

“Do you have enough sense about you to talk?” she asked with a smile, brushing his hair back.

His eyes seemed sleepy and he frowned a little, but one of his own smiles came after it. “I’ve plenty of sense, darling. What is it you want to talk about?”

“Us. I want to talk about the things we do in bed, and the things we _could_ do in bed,” she said, hoping that her nervous grin was encouraging.

His was a deer-in-headlights look, and he seemed to know that there was no escaping her this time. “You want to talk about… Why?”

“I just want to talk over a few things. Nothing bad, I promise.” She brushed his hair back again - more an affectionate gesture since it wasn’t actually in the way of anything - and put her arm around his back. 

The anxiety that reared in response to her request for this conversation sobered him a bit. “All right,” he said, and clasped his hands on his lap.

She pushed headlong into it; there was no reason to draw out his discomfort. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things… things I want to try. And I need you to help me try them, if you think you can. If you don’t want to do them, I understand, but I thought maybe-”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing things right. It’s been a long time, Belle. I’ll-”

“No, no no,” she interrupted him this time, moving to sit more closely and winding her fingers between his hands, forcing him to stop clenching them so tightly. “You’re _wonderful_ ,” she smiled. “Trust me, I’m far from unhappy with our sex life. I only thought we might try something new.”

“What do you need?” he asked, looking up at her. His gaze wasn’t as drowsy now, and his fingers opened to admit hers.

“Rumpel,” she said gently, “do you remember a week or so ago, when you caught me holding my breath while we were in bed?”

He frowned a bit and gave her a mildly perturbed look from the corner of his eye. “I remember.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I was only trying something. But I think it doesn’t work so well, trying it the way I did.”

“And so, you need my help. How am I meant to help you… hold your…” He looked over at her, catching on. “Belle.”

“You won’t hurt me. I know you won’t.”

“What in all the realms is it meant to do, stopping you breathing?” he asked with no little amount of exasperation. There was no end to what he would do for her, but he wanted to  _know_ , if he was to do this.

“It’s meant to heighten sensation,” she explained, her voice taking on an instructive tone. “It deprives one’s brain of oxygen and creates a mildly hallucinogenic state.”

“‘Depriving one’s brain of oxygen,’” Rumpel repeated, “does not sound like an enjoyable experience. Are you _sure_ about this, darling?” he asked, looking at her closely, hoping she might change her mind.

Belle nodded, giving him a bright smile. “I’m sure. It won’t go  _that_ far - not far enough to hurt anything. Being the first time trying it, I don’t want to go to extremes. Like I said, it’s an experiment.”

“Is that… everything?” he asked, nodding, his eyebrows up. She recognized the look - he was hoping that she’d finished the conversation she had cornered him into.

“Almost,” Belle smiled. “I have one more thing to ask.”

“All right.” He nodded once, looking at her intently, listening.

She couldn’t help but smile wider. He was so willing to help, to give her what she wanted. She had no doubt he would give her anything she asked for, no matter how uncomfortable it made him, and for that reason she knew she had to be discerning about  _everything_ she asked of him.

“I want you to use your teeth. I want you to bite me,” she said again gently but clearly, and explained. “I want to feel your teeth on me, pinching me, enough to leave marks.” Somehow, this part she blushed over more than her first request.

He stared at her. “You want it to _hurt_? Wh- Belle,  _why_?”

She responded by scooting even closer to him and sliding a hand into his hair, grasping a handful close to his scalp, and tugging enough to pull his head back just a little - something she’d discovered made his hips jerk out of rhythm when they’re in bed. He sucked in a breath and his eyes squeezed shut. Belle looked to his lap and found his inseam just a bit more snug.

When she let go, he nodded again. “I understand,” he said, swallowing hard and making his Adam’s apple jump. “I’ll try,” he told her, and she noticed that he made no promises. She understood, too.

Belle leaned up to kiss his cheek, and he turned his face to kiss her. “Would you like to go to bed?” she asked, meaning in her words.

He grinned. He wouldn’t _ask_ yet, but she was waiting for him to get to that point. She knew that smile, though. “Would you mind getting me a cup of coffee, darling? I’m still a little...”

She giggled and nodded quickly. “I’m sorry for pouring you full of so much wine.” On the way out the door, she turned back. “You could get ready for bed while I’m making it,” she said and wiggled her eyebrows at him once before disappearing from the bedroom.

She brought him the large mug that she filled with tea when she was feeling down or poorly, and found him under the covers upon her return, bare-chested and his suit hung up neatly. After placing the mug in his hands, she went to get ready for bed herself. He’d placed the half empty cup on the bedside table when she came out of the bathroom in one of his undershirts; it was a nightshirt on her, falling just long enough to hide whether she wore panties or not.

“Would you like to try something we talked about?” she asked as she turned off the bathroom light.

He stared at her and she saw his Adam’s apple bob again. “Not tonight…” he said quietly.

“Not at all, or just nothing we talked about?”

“I do want to be with you, darling, but-”

She smiled. “You need some time to wrap your head around the _other_ things.”

“Exactly,” he sighed, grateful for her understanding.

“Then nothing strange and new tonight,” she grinned and sat on the bed next to him with a bounce before crawling beneath the covers, showing him that indeed she did not have panties beneath her nightshirt. 

He had no pajama bottoms on either, she found when she slid her hand over his hip, intending to slip her fingers into the waistband that wasn’t there. Moving her hand farther, she found him hard, his shaft resting against his belly, and she was pleased that their discussion  _did_ have such an effect on him. Belle pulled her nightshirt right back off and curled her leg across his hips, pressing herself against him until he turned over toward her. He drew her into his arms to hold her close and she wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him forward to kiss him.

Even now, she couldn’t help the fantasies that flicked through her thoughts: Rumpel grazing her lip with his teeth, nipping at her neck. The fantasy progressed to the idea of him _biting_ her - her neck, shoulder, anywhere he could reach… He groaned into her mouth, and she realized that she was rolling her hips firmly against him. She pulled back from the kiss with a little smacking sound and tightened her leg around him. “I’m ready,” she said, smiling at him, and started to turn onto her back while still holding onto him, taking him part of the way with her before he began moving to shift on top of her.

He slid in easily; the conversation had her keyed up, too. Just by the way he moved, she could tell that he wouldn’t last long. It didn’t matter, though. Not tonight, when she already felt herself getting close after only a handful of thrusts. 

She finished just before he did, gasping inward and moaning on the exhale. Rumpel didn’t make much noise either - something close to a whimper before his orgasm wrung a groan from him. She wanted noise from him, wanted to hear that he enjoyed himself as much as she did, but it was too soon to push him for that, either. She stroked his back as they calmed, feeling the thump of his heart against her breastbone.

**~~~**

A few days later - which consisted of, respectively: disaster, disaster, inconveniently timed interruption by David and Emma for a counter-hex on Snow’s kitchen, and disaster - Belle came to the conclusion that she would have to take a chunk of time by force, if they were to have some time together that consisted of more than a hurried meal or sleep. On a Wednesday evening, she chanced that they might have a handful of hours in which no one called upon Rumpel to pull their ass from the fire. She left the library an hour before she knew he would close the shop. 

Rumpel came home to find her sitting at the top of the stairs without a stitch on. Before he looked up to see her there, she watched as he shed his gloves, scarf, and coat in the entryway. His eyes finally fell on her, and though he went a bit pink, he grinned and had the gall to ask, “Aren’t you cold?”

“Not for long, hopefully,” she replied, smiling right back at him before she got up and disappeared into the bedroom.

He came through the bedroom doorway not too many seconds after - so quickly she’d have sworn he traveled via magic instead of stairs if she hadn’t heard his footsteps on the hardwood - pulling his tie loose and his waistcoat already laid open. “So _this_ is why the library closed early,” he said as he began to drop articles of clothing.

She sat on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs. “I thought I might take the chance no one would abscond with you for problem solving on your way home.”

“If I’d known how you awaited me, I’d have closed up shop much sooner.”

Belle laughed, and when his underwear fell to the floor next to all the rest, she held her hand out to him. He closed the couple of steps to the side of the bed. His movement was defter now that he’d healed his leg with magic, but - and she didn’t know if she would ever tell him this - she missed the use of his cane. The ease of movement was more comfortable and convenient for him, she knew, but Rumpel with his limp and his cane, she thought that might be the closest to the original version of him she would ever get to see.

He sat next to her, putting his arms around her and drawing her close for a kiss. Belle hated to chance making him awkward, but she hoped to make the point of this evening, this encounter, trying out those things she’d brought up to him. “Rumpel…” she said, placing her hand at his shoulder to put enough space between them to speak.

“Hm?” he hummed, and she grinned to see his eyes already hazy with want.

“Those things we talked about the other night… I would like to try them tonight. If you’re okay with trying,” she ventured.

He looked at her for a moment before nodding.

She gave him a tentative smile and moved closer, sideways, her leg curled to press against his hip. “We can talk more, if you need to,” she said, sliding her hand across his thigh to curl her fingers over the inside, and his eyes practically rolled back. Belle pulled her lower lip between her teeth; she could _see_ him thickening in response to her touch.

“No… no, we don’t have to have another discussion,” he said, his voice low.

Belle moved back, farther into the middle of the bed, and reached for his hand to tug him to follow her. She parted her legs, and after crawling up close, he knelt in the space she gave. His gaze lingered between her legs before he looked up at her. It made her face heat, and not in embarrassment - she enjoyed knowing how he wanted her. She slid her feet across the new blue duvet to touch his calves, and leaned forward enough to take him in her hand. His eyes fluttered closed with her touch, and the muscles in his jaw twitched. There should have been a sound, if he had only let it out. His hands settled on her thighs, and she ran her fingers lightly up his shaft, delighted to see as it twitched.

She scooted down so that she could recline and curled her fingers around his upper arm to pull him down. He stretched out to lay cradled between her thighs, shifting against her, and she was more than ready. “When I tell you, put your hand over my mouth and nose. And don’t move it until my orgasm has finished. Will you do that?”

His face, already flushed, deepened in color with her frankness. He nodded, though, and made a caveat, “I won’t go a second past being uncomfortable without air myself.” 

Belle’s heart swelled with love for him, understanding that he intended on holding his breath while he deprived her of hers. “It’s a deal,” she grinned and squeezed her steepled legs tight around him. He made a strangled little groan and dropped his head to her shoulder, shifting against her again. She turned to speak close to his ear. “I’m ready for you.”

He reached between them, guiding himself into her and pressing forward until their hips rested together again. The feeling of being filled - still new, novel and _amazing_ \- drew a stuttered moan from her, and he began as they always did, with slow, even thrusts. He raised his head to kiss her, and she looped her arm around the back of his neck to hold him close. She gave a purposeful nip to his lower lip, making his hips jerk. Belle grinned. She enjoyed finding which things had interesting effects on him; it was like a whole different language to learn.

“Your teeth?” she said, prompting gently, trying not to take him out of the moment.

He nodded, slow and half surfacing. “Where?”

“Anywhere,” she said, her voice a touch high, the joy and anticipation building inside her threatening to pull forth a giggle.

He licked his lips and ducked his head to the soft flesh between her shoulder and neck, opening his mouth to first graze her skin with his teeth. When she made a little sound of encouragement, he tried again, taking more between his teeth, biting harder, and her reaction was a reward. Belle gasped and writhed, pushing up against him, a deeper moan elicited with the sensation. She wanted him to bite her harder, and maybe he would in time. She felt that it was a lot she’d asked, when he had only ever been _so_ careful with her, so this was enough for now. It was something they could perhaps build on.

Her fingers flexed, grasping over the muscles of his back. She whimpered, feeling that she was getting close, the heated tension in her back and belly building higher. Words wouldn’t make the connection to her tongue, so she moved her hand from his back to reach for his hand where it rested next to her head and tugged at his wrist.

He was still worried a bit - she could see it in the creases around his eyes - but he unanchored his hand and kissed her again briefly. He placed his hand over her mouth and nose, solid and sealing, his thumb curled against the soft underside of her jaw, and just the act of it made her reel. 

Rumpel watched her with concern. She could see it even through the haze of building toward climax. True to his word, he wasn’t breathing either. That much she could feel, with his mouth resting against his hand over her mouth. His nose touched hers, his still uncut hair fallen forward on either side of her face, and in the dim light of the bedroom his eyes were all but black. She felt it. Closer, closer, and she tightened her legs around him, her feet against the soft curve of his ass, encouraging him to thrust more quickly, more intensely, just  _more_. She urged him without words, and he obeyed as if he’d heard, his hips hitching harder against hers.

She was just beginning to feel a desperation for air when her climax crashed into her harder than she’d ever felt it. She bucked beneath him in orgasm, her arm clinging tight around his neck. Behind his hand, she gave a long, high keen, and his thrusts fell out of rhythm.

She saw his eyes widen just before he came, and she hardly had time to think she might not have much trouble talking to him about trying new things anymore when a second orgasm washed over her as the first had barely begun to fade, making her arch up against him and her limbs tighten around him. His hand slid away from her mouth and she gasped in a breath. With a last, broken thrust, he  _cried out_ with her for the first time, and that might have been the most satisfying part of all.

**~~~**

“Thank you… for indulging me,” Belle said, her smile dazed and sated.

He lay on his side next to her, looking at her with his eyelids at half mast. “Anything you want. You know that.”

“Still. I know you weren’t perfectly comfortable with it. So,  _thank you_ , Rumpel.”

He turned onto his back, and then she was the one on her side, chasing his line of sight. She stretched up to kiss him and rested a hand on his shoulder, then her chin on her hand. He turned his face to meet her eyes again. “I’ll get better at it. All of it,” he promised.

She worried at her lip a little, wondering if he would ever truly know how much he did please her. “You were perfect,” she said. She would tell him more later, perhaps tomorrow. She would make him blush by telling him how everything he did thrilled her, what he did for her. But for now, she brushed strands of damp hair away from his face and rested her head against his shoulder, feeling his heart and breath catch up with him.


End file.
